


Yes, Tom - Chapter 28

by riddlemetitillatedhiddles (ninecats)



Series: Yes, Tom [30]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-25
Updated: 2013-06-25
Packaged: 2017-12-16 04:40:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/857899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninecats/pseuds/riddlemetitillatedhiddles





	Yes, Tom - Chapter 28

All during the ride to the airport and up to the point when I boarded my flight, Tom called. Incessantly. I refused to answer, but I did send him a text promising I'd call him once I landed in Los Angeles. Thankfully, my flight was non-stop, so I knew I would have several hours of uninterrupted peace. Our relationship had turned once again, and now Tom was frantic, insecure, and desperate. The messages ranged from simple and straightforward to his signature overwrought soliloquies. Most, though, were either "Elizabeth please", "I love you", or "I can't live without you". Every text, regardless of length or verbosity, was an impassioned plea of some sort. Begging me to… Well, I wasn't sure actually what he expected me to do, and I doubted he knew either. Tom had to realize I couldn't _not_ go; I'd already signed a contract and I wasn't about to sever the best connection I had in my new career. For the next two and half weeks, we'd both be alone, not just for the first time since Tom went to Iceland, but even more significantly, for the longest period of time since October when Tom and I had begun our relationship. 

Overwhelmed, I began to slowly suffocate, until I became almost devoid of emotions altogether. I couldn't even cry. I could barely think. And it hadn't even been two hours. The weight of realization, that this might be irreparable, was utterly disheartening. I couldn't believe that after everything we'd been through, everything we had endeavored to fix, that it seemed to be ending so unceremoniously. I felt completely defeated.

On the plane, I had a glass of wine to assuage my nerves, although it didn't help much. Over and over I tried to reassure myself that I was doing the right thing, that even without the supposed pregnancy, Tom and I needed some time apart. This whole situation was simply the catalyst for a long-overdue examination. Or at least it was for me. After a second glass of wine, I finally fell asleep. Haunting nightmares kept it from being restful. Most were what I feared most, despite how ridiculous it was: Tom and Sophie, together, laughing at me. Enjoying my pain. 

When the plane finally touched down in Los Angeles, I had close to 50 messages from Tom. Most were the same or at least very similar, so I didn't read them all. Instead, despite my misgivings, I kept my promise and called him. My heart felt constrained, needing to escape, almost as if it would leap out of my throat to avoid any further harm. _Breathe, Ellie. Be strong._

"Elizabeth?" His voice, usually so composed, so commanding, cracked under the weight of emotion. He wore his own heart on his sleeve now. I didn't know if I could take it. He spoke quickly, urgently. "Thank you so much for calling, darling. I miss you so much already. I'm so sorry…"

"Tom…"

"Please don't hang up," he begged, choking. "Tell me I can fix this. Please…"

"I don't know how," I admitted gently. The anger had dissipated somewhat, although the wounds still smarted. All of them.

Almost a full minute went by, and he didn't speak. We both sat there in total silence, caught in an uncomfortable vortex of distance. Real distance. Emotional distance. Just like my wounds, our shared pain was all-encompassing. "Sophie is doing this because she's jealous," he began abruptly, attempting to explain. "I know she is. She's…"

"She's what?"

He didn't even acknowledge my question, choosing to continue rambling again, a stream-of-consciousness justification: "Why wouldn't she want to prove she's pregnant? Wouldn't she want to take a test and show me if it were true? Or want to prove I'm the father? She'd have to be at least…"

"Tom."

"… six months if…"

"Tom."

"… it was truly mine and…"

"Tom!"

He finally stopped, panting softly as he tried to catch his breath. Even through the terrible connection, I could hear him start to cry. "Please…"

"It's not about that. Tom, nothing you say or do right now will make this change. I have to get there on my own." Silence again. Harsher this time. Quietly, I told him in no uncertain terms, "You have to let me."

Unfortunately, it didn't seem to sink in, and Tom started in again, trying to find some magic phrase that would erase everything. "I _never_ cheated on you…"

"I hear you," I replied tersely, my patience thinning under his constant imploring.

"But do you _believe_ me?" Voice rising just slightly, what should be a petition sounded more like a demand.

"Tom."

"I'm sorry," he corrected, contrite and nervous. "I just want you to believe me. It's the truth."

"I…" I took a deep breath, refocusing my thoughts. "I'm trying to believe you."

"I want only you. You're the only woman I've ever loved. The only happiness I've ever known. You fill an emptiness in me that I thought…"I sighed, interrupting him. Tom's impassioned speeches sometimes sounded too rehearsed to be genuine. When he described everything with a superlative, gushed about every movie, waxed poetic about every song, it became difficult to assess what was truth and what was really just a propensity for colorful speech. My subsequent lack of response halted his babbling and he prodded, sadness filling his voice, "Elizabeth?"

"Yes, Tom?"

"Can you forgive me?"

"I don't know. I'm sorry, I just don't know yet. Can you explain honestly why you didn't tell me about Sophie from the beginning? Or why you chose to hide the information from me instead of telling me right away?"

He didn't falter, didn't hesitate. He blurted out, "I didn't want to lose you."

"Okay." My answer was calm, reassuring. I was softening. I needed more, though. It was too soon to let him in. He excelled at many things, and persuasion was at the top of the list. 

Already, he needed more, too. More than I had to give. He began to push again, "I need you to know that…"

"Tom, I have to go. I do love you. Very much. Okay? I'm not ending things, understand?"

"Yes, but…"

Bracing myself, I became stern again. "No. I'll call you tonight before I go to sleep. It'll be tomorrow morning there."

At first he didn't respond, but eventually he whispered, "Promise?"

"Yes. I promise. I'll call at 6AM there. Okay? I'll wake you up." I tried to lighten the mood, tried to get him focused on some future event so that we could both escape this painful present.

"I won't sleep," he pouted softly, "I'll be tossing and turning all night."

"I know, and I am sorry. I do love you."

"Elizabeth, I have to tell you something."

"Okay, fine, what?" I felt he was just delaying the inevitable, just wanting to keep me from hanging up, but I indulged him nonetheless. 

"There's more to this than what you think. I swear. The surface is misleading…"

I had no clue what he was talking about. "What do you mean? About Sophie?"

He paused, then replied, almost inaudibly, "Yes."

"Okay, I'm listening."

"I…" he stammered, "I can't… I can't tell you. I can't break confidence, it would…"

"Wait, you can't break _her_ confidence?"

"Yes, but it's…"

Scoffing, I brusquely replied, "If you can't tell me then we're back where we started. Why even bring it up? What the fuck, Tom?"

"But..."

It was too late. He'd managed to just make everything worse. Every bit of sympathy I had begun to feel faded under this refusal. If he had something to tell me, why wouldn't he? Why would he protect her? _Her?_ "Look, I do love you. But I'm done talking to you right now. I have to go."

"Darling, please don't do this. Don't do this…"

"I have to go," I repeated, each word punctuated, my irritation evident.

He sighed audibly. "Elizabeth…" This time, it was a combination of emotions that seeped through the phone. Obvious frustration the most obvious. Lack of control flustered him, not to mention angered him, and the edge in his voice showed he was not dealing with it very well. There was also sadness, though. Regret. Worry. Uncertainty. What broke my heart, though, was the fear. Hearing him so terrified, I almost caved again. I had no clue what special information Tom thought could solve this situation. If he refused to share it with me, I did not care. I was tired. Of the lies, of everything. He re-adjusted his tone, trying once more to convince me of his sincerity: "My heart has only ever belonged to you."

"I'll talk to you before I go to bed." I hung up abruptly, not letting him say another word.

 

****

We kept at this for the first several days I was in Los Angeles. I was beyond exhausted. Between the jet lag and the 13- and 14-hour days, I was ready to collapse. But that wasn't all. Tom and I argued all the time (or really, I mostly listened to Tom's ceaseless pleading). Each night, I'd come back to the hotel with my room-mate, Jenny. I'd talk to Tom for an hour or so before falling asleep, only to get up at 6 and do it all over again. I came to dread having to even speak to him. He still wouldn't tell me any of the supposed specifics that might potentially exonerate him, and until he would, or Sophie turned out not to be pregnant, we were at an impasse. Often, I'd wake up in the middle of the night crying and retreat to the bathroom to keep from waking Jenny. Even though I felt it was the beginning of the end, and I had started to prepare myself for it, still I wasn't ready to let go. Dutifully, I called him each morning and each night, regardless of how hopeless it made me feel. I missed him terribly. No matter what, I still loved him so very much. 

Another week passed. Work kept me anesthetized during the majority of my days, so I didn't really have time to pine over the state of things. We were so busy getting the last-minute stuff planned and making sure that all the right people would be at the premiere. I mostly ran a lot of errands and made a lot of phone calls. Kept me occupied, though. Plus, they occasionally organized fun stuff for us to do when we had time, including a screening of the movie. I didn't get to meet Robert Downey Jr., but I was okay with that. I was grateful just to keep my mind off Tom. 

My room-mate, Jenny, and I got along really well, too. It was nice to have a female friend again. The only real friend I had in London was Sarah, and even if Tom didn't hate her, which he did, she could be particularly judgmental so I rarely felt like hanging out with her. I knew I could never really be honest with anyone about what my relationship with Tom was like, but having someone to talk to at all, even in generalizations, was a huge relief. Plus, Jenny and I actually had a lot in common. Like me, she'd grown up in the Midwest, and had originally intended to be a teacher, but ended up dropping out and enrolling in film school instead. Now she wanted to write screenplays. She was enthralled that I was dating Tom, although she tried to hide it at first. One night, after a particularly bad conversation with him, we drank some wine and stayed up later than usual getting more acquainted. She admitted she had heard rumors, and that when we were paired together as room-mates, she was thrilled. Until she heard us fighting, most likely. She never complained, though, and I was grateful for that. I was careful, only telling her little bits and pieces of what was going on between us. I admitted that no matter how many times Tom said it, I had trouble believing he didn't cheat. It was reassuring to have someone understand without dismissing my fears outright. Really, I wished I could tell her everything. I was lonely.

Then, out of the blue, I received a text from Chris. Apparently, he was in town filming and Tom had phoned him, asking him to check up on me. Admittedly, I was still a little peeved at Chris after what happened on New Year's. We actually hadn't spoken since then, not even texts. But Chris was so different from Tom, it would be a nice change of pace. He was like a big brother, honest and straightforward. And if he could manage to shed light on the Sophie situation, all the better. Because it was the day before the premiere, I only had to work from 7-2, so we made plans to meet for a late lunch at a little Japanese noodle place that Tom really liked.

When I walked into the restaurant, Chris was already waiting. He immediately wrapped his arms around me in a huge bear hug. "Ellie! It's so good to see you." He released me from his embrace, but kept his hands on my shoulders. Staring at me intently, his expression turned serious. "I am really sorry about New Year's. All of it. I wanted to apologize, but Elsa said that if I gave you some space it might be better. And I know you and Tom had some issues, so…"

"That's for sure. Don't worry, though, it's fine. I know you were trying to help Tom, and he's your friend or whatever…" Despite my easygoing response, I was still a little hurt. At least he apologized, though.

His brow furrowed for just a moment and he shook his head. "That's not what happened. We were all really worried about you. You ran off into the middle of London. It was cold and people were drunk. We were all worried something might happen. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I know it was wrong to let Tom call, but at the time I thought he'd have a better chance convincing you to come back than I would. But it wasn't to try and trick you."

"I… I'm sorry. I didn't really think about that." Honestly, I didn't think about it at all, and now I felt pretty guilty for making Chris and Elsa worry, too. The hostess finally seated us, in the back, away from prying eyes. 

"I think on that night none of us were really thinking, eh?" 

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

Immediately, I ordered sake and Chris got a beer, and we ordered a few different appetizers. Well, a _lot_ of appetizers, actually, since Chris could eat more food than I had heretofore thought humanly possible. Watching Chris eat gyoza with chopsticks was actually pretty entertaining. Not because he wasn't adept at it, because he was, but rather because his huge hands dwarfed the chopsticks, rendering the whole scene a bit comical. Thor eating with chopsticks. I grinned, watching him for a moment. "What?"

"Nothing," I laughed, "you can just eat a lot of food. I always forget how much."

Smiling sheepishly, he continued to devour the dumplings at a rapid pace. "I have to, though! It's nice to see you smiling, by the way," he added with a slightly-full mouth. 

"Yeah." And my smile faded. It was time to have the talk. I kind of wished we could just keep things silly, but I knew the specter of Tom was hanging over us both. "So… I guess Tom wanted you to check on me?"

"Oh, Ellie. Don't think of it like that. I didn't know you were here, if I had I would have wanted to see you regardless. I love Tom, he's like my brother. But I care about you, too. I want you to be happy. Both of you."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so snippy…" Sighing, I rubbed my temples for a moment before finishing my sake. I needed more alcohol for this, that was certain. Getting the waitress' attention, I ordered us both another drink.

"I get it. No worries. I know you're stressed. Tom is, too, though. You know…" Just as Chris was about to say something, they came and cleared the appetizer dishes, bringing us each our drinks and letting us know our food was almost ready. I was anxious for them to leave, wanting to know if Chris could tell me something, _anything_ about what Tom couldn't or wouldn't explain.

As they finally began to leave us, I prompted him, "Were you going to say something?"

"First, I just want to clarify: you do really love Tom, right? I mean, aside from this thing with Sophie, is this what you really want?"

"Yes." It was strange how quickly I answered. I had so many doubts, so many insecurities, but when it came down to it, my natural reaction was that I loved him. Unequivocally. I had never felt the way I did with Tom. I wanted him, needed him, felt stronger with him in my life. Being apart made me miserable, but we weren't making any headway and, in fact, Tom had succeeded in exacerbating the entire situation. So I didn't know how it could ever work. I shrugged, confiding sadly, "I do. I love him, Chris. When things are working, it's a happiness I never thought possible. I'm truly lost without him."

"Please don't get upset. I just want to make sure."

"It's okay. I know you do."

"And it's not just… well, you know, the way you two have your…" For a moment, he averted his gaze and his voice got really quiet as he tried to find a way to delicately describe the dynamic Tom and I shared. Unfortunately, he only succeeded in becoming tongue-tied. "You know, your special…" 

I stopped him. "No, it's not just that," I promised. 

He let loose with a long, drawn-out exhalation before nodding. "Okay. I just wanted to make sure."

"Why? What is it? Do you know something because I honestly can't take much more of this. Please, Chris. I'm disintegrating…" Tears welled up in my eyes as I looked at him, silently pleading with him to help me. Help us. I needed something. Right at that moment, the waitress brought our food. 

It felt like she'd never leave, the seconds elongating into torturous eternities. She must have recognized Chris, because she started asking over and over if he needed anything. Once she was gone, Chris took a deep breath and began to try and explain. "Ellie, there's more about Sophie than what Tom has told you, or I have told you. There's a reason for that, though. It's a rather sensitive issue. Sophie's had…" he paused before continuing quietly, his tone now solemn, "serious psychiatric issues."

"Oh…"

"She even gets delusional when she doesn't stick with her meds. She was hospitalized briefly before she and Tom started dating, he just didn't find out about it until later. When her most recent relationship ended last month, she tried to convince him she was pregnant, too. When that didn't work, she must have gotten frustrated and picked the next person she could think of…"

"Okay, I get it, but he _did_ sleep with her. That's not a delusion and that's not a lie Sophie made up."

"Before you two were even together, though."

"The _night_ before." 

"Ellie, is that really what you're upset about? That Tom had sex with someone before you were even a couple? You didn't even really know him."

He was right. We hadn't been together. Chris wasn't the only one starting to question what was really bothering me. "No, I guess I'm not. I don't know. I'm not sure anymore what I'm upset about to be totally honest," I divulged, my head down. Fidgeting with my skirt, I didn't know what to do. Even if I did want to stay with him, we still didn't technically know if Sophie was lying or whatever. Could I love Tom even if Sophie really was pregnant with his child?

"Perhaps you should call Tom?"

"I know. You're right. I just… this is so frustrating. Why did she have to pick him? Why? We've had enough shit to deal with." A few tears escaped, refusing to obey my commands and rolling down my flushed cheeks anyway. Such a gentleman, Chris handed me a napkin, but didn't make a fuss. I dabbed quickly, hoping to avoid any further embarrassment. At least Chris didn't seem to care about the crying. I just felt utterly humiliated. This whole situation was fucked up beyond belief.

"I'm so sorry, Ellie. I don't know why. Maybe she thought she could just go back to him?" he offered in between bites of ramen. My own appetite gone, I stared blankly at my food. "You need to understand that Tom doesn't want to betray her, because it's not entirely her fault. But he's had enough. He wants some closure." Setting his chopsticks down, he made sure my attention was totally on him. "Ellie? He loves you. Trust me. He loves you so much. He wants to be with you, to marry you. It's all he's been talking about for the past few weeks. Your trip to Wales? The whole thing was so he could propose. Somehow Sophie either found out, or she was jealous, or something. I don't know. But suddenly she was 'pregnant'. And since there's a remote possibility it's true, what else could Tom do? He knows how you feel about her. He didn't want to hurt you."

I was about to answer, about to say something, when my phone vibrated. It was a text from Tom. Nothing but "I love you" and a link. When I opened it, there was the magazine interview Tom had spoken to me about. Apparently the issue would go on sale at the end of May, but the shorter, online version of the article was up now. One quote filled me with sadness and joy at once: _"When you find that one person, that other part of your soul, you feel so fulfilled. You wonder how you ever managed before. How did life have any meaning when I was alone? That's how I feel now, with Elizabeth. She has made my life whole."_

I was floored. Overcome with emotion, I excused myself and made my way to the restroom. Sobbing outright in the solace of the bathroom stall, I tried to call Tom, but there was no answer. All I could get was voicemail, so I left a message. "Tom, I love you, and I miss you so much. I just want to work this out. Please, call me back. Please. I don't want to give up. I can forgive you for lying; I understand why now. And I believe you didn't cheat on me. Please, call me back."

When I rejoined Chris at the table, I was tearful, but smiling. I knew things would be okay as soon as I spoke with Tom. I ate a little, but mostly waited anxiously. As we said our good-byes, though, Tom still hadn't called. I tried once more, and got no response, just voicemail again. _Where could he be?_ Had he given up altogether? I took a taxi back to the hotel. Jenny was gone, so I turned on the TV and waited, my stomach clenched in knots. It was only 6PM. Where was Tom at 2 in the morning? The next day was going to be incredibly long. We had to be ready to be picked up at 6AM, and even during the movie we most likely wouldn't get a break. At around 9, I fell asleep, clutching my phone, still waiting for Tom's call.


End file.
